ON /
SLOWNESS

A tie takes as long as it takes. The rope is passed, pulled, checked, passed again. Nothing in the frame happens fast, and the photograph is only the last second of an hour.

Slowness is where the conversation happens. Between two wraps there is time to ask: too tight, too cold, still good? The answer changes the next move.

“The photograph is only the last second of an hour.”

I photograph that pause. Not the finished pattern, but the moment someone breathes out and the rope settles with them.

Jute stretches, skin warms, the light from one lamp moves a little as the evening gets later. Everything in the room is slightly alive.

When the session ends, untying takes almost as long as tying. That is the part I keep: the knot coming apart, slowly, the way it was made.